reading:
John Bowe (ed): Gig: Americans Talk About Their Jobs
Gail Simone: Birds of Prey
Sarah Vowell: Take the Cannoli
Howard Zinn: People's History of the U.S.
I like having this blog as a record of my life -- and while I might remember some of the things that have happened lately, some of them are in danger of slipping away.
Plus, my iPod is on the fritz, and though I keep telling myself that it's a bougeouis appliance that I really don't need for my daily life, I'm still a little bit bummed about it.
Hence:
I spent a few days with my grandma last week -- the longest stretch of time I've spent alone with her for a few years, at least. And while the circumstances could have been better (she was recovering from an operation, I was squirting saline solution on her awesome incision and making her Rice-a-Roni) it was really nice, to see her that much. We watched some Lifetime, some Law & Order, played some cribbage. But mostly, we just talked.
Just read The Godfather, which is just bizarre. Cut from the movie: an entire subplot about how Connie Corleone's maid of honor's vagina is too big. Seriously.
My friend Emily is taking French classes this summer, and for some reason, this makes me want to take burlesque classes.
Okay, I'm also looking into sketch comedy classes.
On Friday, I'm supposed to be hearing about the first round of two different fellowships I applied for. So I'll go into the July 4th weekend either optimistic about my future or incredibly depressed about it -- both of which are excellent reasons to dye my hair red and drink a lot.
Two weekends ago, my family came to see the play, and afterwards we went to a diner. I drove my cousin, and in the ten minutes of time it took us to get there, we'd both shouted considerably about Boys and how they are Dumb. Lots of "I KNOW!" It was good to shout.
Three hours until War of the Worlds is being watched by me. Status: cautiously optimistic. Looking forward to playing Spot the Bizarre Scientology Reference.
House reruns and new 4400: damn good TV.
From my visit with Grandma: "You know, your grandfather predicted those TVs you hang on the wall? He came home from work one day with a tiny little chip, said that all the tubes and things in our TV could be put right on it. That was right before he died. He would have loved to see it come true."
That's what an old screenwriting prof of mine used to say about writing. "Are ya on da hoarse? You gotta be on da hoarse. 'Cause sometimes, you wanna take the hoarse to Pasadena, but it gets tired around Downtown, or sometimes you ride da hoarse and you end up in Santa Monica and you got no clue how to get to Pasadena now."
My roommate asked me how to get to Pasadena. "Don't," I said. Pasadena isn't necessarily evil. Just impossible to reach.
Today, it feels like all my goals are in Pasadena right now. Applying to jobs, working on screenplays, trying to figure out what's next.
Crap, I totally meant to update today. After all, interesting things have been happening. For example, I got sold to a Ferengi. (For a pretty good price, even!) And the Tonys! My most favorite of all awards shows! And I get to maybe interview Rob Thomas for SMRT-TV! And...
This'll all have to wait until tomorrow. I gotta go yoga.